Note: I do not own Fire Emblem or anything associated with it besides my works of fanfiction. So don't try to steal anything of mine, or I'll find you ^_^
Chapter I:
Running Away
It was a month after the Dark Dragon Idoun's defeat, when Elibe had begun its restructuring. In a small Pheraean bar a man and his daughter were arguing heatedly. "The arrangements are already being made. You'll marry Sir Zeis, and you'll be very happy together." Bartre, the owner of the bar, was speaking to a young lady with dark hair and fine features reminiscent of the nomad tribes of Sacae. The girl looked rather upset. "Why, Father? Why do I have to marry him of all people?" Bartre sighed. He had explained this many a time, but his daughter never seemed to listen. "Sir Zeis is the perfect match for you, Fir. He's strong, wealthy, respectful, and will treat you well. Why wouldn't you want to marry him?" Fir pounded her fist on the bar with displeasure as she said, "I don't want to get married yet. Why do I have to? Mother was older than me when she got married to you." The brown-haired man sighed again and leaned on the bar. "Fir, things are changing. I'm not going to be able to keep the bar open anymore." This was news to the girl, whose eyes widened with shock. "Why not, Father? What's happening?" Bartre's eyes were sad as he looked into his daughter's own and said softly, "It's the bandits. They've grown to massive proportions, and the marquess is recruiting those who are able to fight to subdue them. You aren't old enough to serve what we sell here, and I won't be around; every man who can use a weapon is being taken into the war effort. The only one who's staying behind is Roy."
Fir was shocked. Why would Eliwood, the marquess of Pherae, start forcing men into military service? It was so unlike him… "I'll go with you, Father. My sword skills have improved; I'm sure I could be of use." Bartre shook his head adamantly. "No, Fir. I've already lost your mother - do you have any idea how I would feel if you went out and got killed? You need someplace to stay where you will be treated well, and Sir Zeis is the best man for you. Fir, it's all for your own good." Standing, Fir looked out the window. "I'd be happier out fighting bandits than sitting inside some moldy old manor with Zeis! Father, you have to let me come!" The bulky man walked over to his daughter and hugged her, tears in his eyes. "I won't allow it, Fir. I won't do anything that could cause your uncle and I to lose you." Holding tight to her father, Fir began to cry as well as she whispered, "But you'll go out and fight a war you shouldn't have to and maybe get killed doing it? Father, that's hardly fair. We have to stay together." Bartre's voice was gruff in an attempt to hide the sorrow in his voice. "I have to leave in two days. Sir Zeis will be coming to pick you up tomorrow, so be a good girl and wait, okay?" Fir heard her voice shake as she cried into her father's shoulder, "This isn't right, Father! Please, let me go with you!" Bartre held Fir tight for a moment longer before releasing her. "Go upstairs and pack, Fir. I'll be here to see you off tomorrow." Having no other options, the swordswoman ascended the stairs to her room.
Her room was small but large enough to be comfortable. Fir had never dreamed of wealth or power, only mastering the sword, and the prospect of being married to a Bernese general was not a good one in her eyes. She looked at a small picture of her mother that Bartre had given to her when she was little, thinking of the woman. Karla had been Bartre's beloved wife until she passed away from illness and the woman Fir had always aspired to be like. Mother… What should I do? I don't want to marry Zeis, or anyone yet. But how am I supposed to refuse Father? I wish you were here and could tell me what to do. Tears came to Fir's eyes again as she thought and stared at the picture. She then remembered something that her mother had told her in the years before her death: You are strong, Fir. Take your sword and cut open your own path; your heart will never lead you astray. The girl looked at the sword her mother had left her, the famous Wo Dao. It shone bright, just as it had all those years ago when Karla had wielded it, and looking at it gave her an idea. "I will cut open my own path… I won't marry Zeis. I'll go out and train myself to become even stronger." Taking the thick bag she carried her things in when she and her father had left on trips, Fir began gathering her possessions and stuffing them inside. Her mother's words rang in her head as she finished stashing all her things in the bag and lifted the Wo Dao. "This sword shall be my guide. I will not bend to the whims of others. I am Fir, daughter of Bartre and Karla, and I am ruled by no man."
Fir waited until her father knocked on her door and asked, "Fir, are you there?" "Yes, Father." She called back. Bartre opened the door and stood before her. "I'm truly sorry for this, Fir. Sleep well, and I'll see you tomorrow." She stood and let him hug her, feeling guilty for what she was about to do. It's what Mother would have wished. The girl repeated to herself as she returned the hug. "I'll be fine, Father. Sleep well." Bartre released his daughter from his grip and ruffled her hair in a fatherly manner. "You're a good girl, Fir. You'll make a great wife for Sir Zeis." He then turned and left. "I won't, Father. I won't marry him. I'll choose my own path." She murmured after the door closed. Waiting until she heard the sound of her father going to bed, Fir took her bag and her sword before sneaking out of her room and down to the front door. Checking that no one was outside, she silently opened the door, stepped out, and closed and locked it before running as fast as she could through the silent village.